


This Wouldn't be The First Time

by Luminosus



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Fluff, Little bit of crying on Otacon's part at the beginning, M/M, Tiny Little Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 00:19:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3229100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luminosus/pseuds/Luminosus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Request. Otacon winds up crying over an anime (typically) in the middle of the night, knocks on Snake's door, and the rest, between them, was bound to happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Wouldn't be The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> "Idunno if you're still takin lil prompts but Otasune ANYTHING h/c = <3"

David had gotten used to Hal’s crying. Although at first, it had admittedly made him uncomfortable (as most outward displays of emotion did), he realized that honestly, it was just how Hal was.

However, it  _had_ taken the solider a while to figure out the different types of cries Hal had, and how to remedy them. Some were of genuine sadness - these times, the engineer would simply break down and refuse to be touched. Sometimes, Hal would cry because he was happy - like, for instance, when David had brought home his dogs from the shelter for the first time.

So when Hal had knocked on David’s door around 3am (the solider, naturally, was up and alert at the moment’s notice), clad in his (David’s) drooping tank top and grey briefs, with his eyes puffed and glossy, David could only come to the logical conclusion that he’d been crying over anime, Again.

Hal wasn’t wearing his glasses and his hair had resembled some low-tide seaweed; dropping and twisting this way and that, framing his face. His entire posture accented just how small he was, compared to David.  Although David was only a few inches taller than his partner, he was much wider; seeing Hal in his own clothing, barely clinging to his lank figure, didn’t help, either. David, by contrast, stood strong like a rock, despite being just roused, in his simple flannel boxers. 

Not counting Hal’s weak sniffling, neither said a word. They had been through these rounds enough that David did not have to ask. Hal would not have to explain why his favorite character had just died, or got married, or the show simply struck a chord with him. Hal did not have to ask to stay in David’s room for a bit to calm down. David did not have to offer him the cramped spot next to himself under the blankets, and Hal did not have to embarrassingly take the offer. All was done like clockwork - without a sound, but their bare feed shuffling against the aged wooden floor. Soon enough, Hal had found a comfortable position - face just barely touching the broad solider’s chest, one arm propping his own head against an old pillow, and one slung around David. David, conversely, held one hand reassuringly at the small of Hal’s back, and the remaining maneuvered around the pillow to card through Hal’s messy hair. After all the shifting and motion, the two settled down with a collective sigh, the remnants of Hal’s tears virtually gone.

David was beginning to think this was a ploy to sleep with him.

 It didn’t matter, of course, because within minutes Hal was knocked out, face flush against David’s chest, breathing slowly and steadily.


End file.
